


count on me, count me in

by bee_kind



Series: and all the world was open to you [3]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unbeta'd, gender neutral!reader, racially ambiguous!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bee_kind/pseuds/bee_kind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ReotheLeo said: </p><p>"Can I request a Deadpool/Reader when his soulmate is a boring ass accountant who still manages to surprise him with their wit sometimes?"</p><p>Well, of course you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReotheLeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReotheLeo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [write love on my skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835587) by [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview). 



> Okay, so, some of you might know that I occasionally expand the reader one-shots into longer works if I feel like they need a part two, or if I'm hella inspired. ReotheLeo requested this about a billion and one years ago, and I'm just now getting it up. I am many things, babes, but I am not fast. 
> 
> You asked for Deadpool/Boring Ass Accountant!Reader, you're gonna get Deadpool/Boring Ass Accountant!Reader.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

The way you saw it, your mark had no value to you. The paragraph of text on your back is one hell of a soulmark and it tells you just about everything you need to know about the being who will eventually come into your life. You saw no reason, however, why it should dictate the way you lived and acted. You grow up, you ace everything you set your mind to and while the knowledge that your eventual soulmate is a self-described mercenary, assassin and murder might have nudged you toward a safer path in life, your mark had in no way affected you.    
  
You walk the safe path all throughout high school and into college. You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you don’t party. Hell, you barely go to movies and even then only at the dollar theater in the middle of the day when you can keep a running commentary out loud. You lived safe. You lived in a modest apartment, worked a mid level job in the accounting division of a company that had been around since the seventies and showed no signs of going under, and at night you went home, warmed up some leftover pasta and read a chapter of whatever Russian novel you were currently chipping away at. Nothing had ever disrupted the smooth flow of your day-to-day and if you were lucky, nothing ever would. 


	2. Chapter 2

You don’t know what the hell he is, exactly, but finding him impaled on one of the poles of your fire escape and whistling to himself like nothing is wrong is a bit disconcerting and makes you clench up like a bundle of nerves. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t the best place in New York, you knew, but it was far from the worst. When you first see the red of his outfit glinting in the moonlight, you think he’s the neighborhood Devil, fallen off of a roof while interrogating some business man.    
  
“In case you were about to ask who I am and what I’m doing, I’m Deadpool, the merc with a mouth, top-assassin and former battle rapper. Maybe you’ve heard of me? Judging from the downright disgraceful lack of weapons in your living room, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say probably not, so it’s probably better if I don’t come inside for a nightcap and you don’t ask me any questions that would lead to me having to track you down later. I’m just not down for any unpleasantness tonight. Anyway, what’s a nice kid like you doing in a place like-”   
  
“Do you ever stop talking?”    
  
And his face goes slack for a moment and you have the distinct feeling that his eyes are staring directly into yours. You can’t tell, of course, he’s wearing a mask, but the black marks where his eyes should be seem to be pointed directly at you. All’s dead silent for a moment and then you realize what he said. The spew of words were carved into your back in what you could now safely assume was his borderline illegible handwriting. He voices your feelings summarily   
  
“Well, shit.” 


	3. Chapter 3

You don’t ask him why he calls himself Deadpool or why he runs around decked out in red spandex. You figure you wouldn’t like the answer. He all but confirms it when he shows up on your fire escape again three weeks later sporting bullet holes in his costume and -from what you can make out through his mask- a shit eating grin. You slide open your window and step back so he can duck inside.    
  
“Hello, lover.”   
  
You pursed your lips and drew your robe closer around yourself.    
  
“We are not lovers, Deadpool.” The grin spread wider.    
  
“Not yet, honeybunches, but just you wait.” You were tempted to tell him that he could wait and wait and wait until the cows came home, and nothing would change. You hadn’t gotten this far in your life by throwing yourself at masked men, your soulmate or not. Before you could give voice to your thoughts, the (supervillain? antihero? vigilante? whatever he was he was dangerous.) red clad man was plopping onto your couch, throwing his arms wide over the back.    
  
“What are you doing?”    
  
He turned his head over his shoulder, fixed you with a smile. “I just thought I’d drop by and get to know my future boo thang.”  You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, head down the narrow hallway that would take you to your bedroom.    
  
“I’m going to bed-”   
  
“Wait!” He stopped you just as your fingers brushed against the lightswitch, hovering and ready to plunge the room into darkness. “Wait.” He repeats himself and this time, all semblance of joking is gone from his voice. He just sounds like a man who wants to be heard out. You tarry on the edge for a second, considering just flicking the light off anyway and climbing into your fullsize by yourself. It wouldn’t be horrible if you did; you had budget presentations in the morning and endless spreadsheets to fill, but Deadpool’s looking at you and even though he has his mask on you can tell it’s in earnest. “I do wanna get to know you.” And his tone pulled you off the edge. You sighed and dropped your hand.    
  
“I’ll order pizza.”    
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

He doesn’t tell you his name that night, or next Wednesday when you find him patiently sitting on your fire escape waiting to be let in, and not five days after that when he tells you there’s something he has to do and you don’t see him for three months. His line of work isn’t safe, you know enough to assume that. Every time he’d visited you, there’d been two swords on his back and two pistols in your sight line and he’d always smelled of copper. You might’ve worked a desk job doing the books for an investment firm, but even you knew an assassin when you saw one. You knew the hollow death left inside someone and Deadpool for all of his bravado was so empty you could practically hear his heart clanging around his chest. You don’t press him.

He comes back on a Thursday; you remember because you're babysitting your niece and she's babbling on and on about Thor again. She loved Thor almost as much as she loved Storm and she’s just gone to sleep clutching her plush Mjolnir when you hear the lock pop on the window in your living room. You grab the statue of Lady Justice your mother had insisted you take and creep down the darkened hall, only to find your red clad soulmate sinking down onto your couch. You sigh and set the statue down. As much as your were loathe to admit it, you’d thought he wasn’t going to come back. You should’ve known he could handle himself better than that. You take a seat next to him, hands folded neatly in your lap and wait for him to speak. When he doesn’t, you venture out on your own.    
  
“Did you find what you were looking for?” His shoulders tense and he lowered his head.    
  
“It was already gone.” His voice is tight and he smells of ashes. There’s shards of glass about an inch long jutting out of his shoulder blade and his wrist is turn at an odd angle.    
  
“Did you find who took it?” His voice is dark when he replies,

“Yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, consider this fic AU from this point forward. Homegirl from the Deadpool movie was dead by the time he got to her, and she was one of his three soulmates (you and Ajax are the other two) and he had to kill Ajax for killing her, so he's not in a very good place emotionally right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in one night? who am i becoming?

He stays after that.

Well, not at first.

Deadpool isn’t the sort of man used to being tied to one place any longer than it takes him to finish a job and he’s out of practice when it comes to answering to someone besides himself. After his three-month disappearing act, you ask him to start checking in more often, keeping you updated even if it’s no more than a, ‘I’m still alive.’ He does his best, but he still forgets enough to make you nervous. Once he’s gone for two and a half weeks and on the fifth day without any word, you start checking your soulmark hourly, making sure he’s still alive. When he appears in your kitchen on the eighteenth day of his absence wearing a sheepish smile through his mask and holding roses you know he stole, blabbering on and on about people named Steve and Bucky and Tony, and men in catsuits and spider-people, you decide that you’d rather not know. In the news reports covering Captain America’s defection from the Avengers you see flashes of a red and black uniform and put the pieces together for yourself.

After he starts coming around -really coming around, and not just popping through your fire escape window in the middle of the night- you give him a key. He looks at it confused but you say,

“You keep letting drafts in.” The edges of his mouth curl into a grin beneath his mask and his fingers tighten around the cool metal. It feels like permanence and you’re not sure if the feeling in your stomach is apprehension or anticipation.


End file.
